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My stomach lurched at the thought. Madelyn had never exactly been known as a great cook. Then again, I wasn’t either. I kept myself alive with cereal and frozen dinners and frequent trips to visit Dad and Hailey.
I tried to tell myself there was no way she could screw up eggs.
Don’t ask me where she came up with them, but an onion and a green pepper appeared on the countertop and I watched with disbelieving eyes as she diced things up like a pro, dumping them into the skillet with the eggs and before I knew it there was a steamy, cheesy omelet in front of me.
I watched in horror as she pulled another bottle of hot sauce from her bag and ran a stripe of it right down the center.Oh, no.“Uh…”
“Uh, nothing. Try it.”
I tried not to pull a face as I cut it with the side of my fork, cautiously avoiding the hot sauce, and she watched me do it. When she turned to flip her own breakfast in the pan, I cautiously scraped some of the hot sauce off with my fork.
She slid her plate next to mine and liberally doused it with hot sauce and I fought the urge to gag.
“Woman, your ass is going to be on fire.” I couldn’t keep the thought inside. And that was when I made a critical error: I accidentally pressed the fork into the strip of hot sauce I’d just removed, then hastily cut another section of egg and shoveled it into my mouth. I realized my error the second my tongue caught fire and I jumped up, gasping and sputtering, pouring coffee into a mug and gulping it down. It did nothing to quench the burn, only made it burn hotter, and I leaned over the counter on the heels of my hands, gasping for air as my eyes filled with water.
“Holy shit, you’re not joking.” Madelyn stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry, Beckman. I always just assumed you were joking about how sensitive you were to spices.”
I took deep breaths through my mouth to cool the burn on the intake, though I felt like I was breathing fire on the exhale and she hopped up, pulled the small carton of half-and-half from the fridge and popped open the top.
“Mouthful,” she instructed, handing it over to me and I tipped it back obligingly.
“I’m sorry,” she said mournfully as I set the carton on the countertop and she leaned over quickly, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. It was meant to be an apology, I was sure of that, and it took my mind off the pain for a moment.
The knock at the door startled me and Madelyn was the first to break eye contact, though it was hesitantly.
“Mr. Beckman! Did you forget something?” There was a startled exclamation from her and a chunky red puppy slipped around her legs, running straight for me at a joyful gallop.
“Thanks, Dad,” I called and he snapped off a salute before telling Madelyn he had to run–again–and she shut the door.
“What a beautiful dog,” she murmured, kneeling to run her fingers down the puppy’s wiggling backside, digging her fingers into the sleek red coat. “She’s the biggest Boxer I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, she’s a he, and he’s a Boerboel.” I grinned, my mouth no longer on fire. “They’re wonderful, loving dogs. Fiercely protective. Hard workers. Loyal.”
“I think you just described yourself,” she said softly and I didn’t know what to do with that, so I let it go.
“Kenny and Steve brought your Grams over to meet him; she’s already in love with him. Said her parents had one when she was a small girl. Picked him up when they moved out of Cape Town and settled to the north, on some farmland. She called him ‘the handsomest creature you’ve ever seen.’”
Her beautiful smile made an appearance and I couldn’t help but grin back at her.
“I’m pretty sure she was talking about you, buddy.” She looked right at me when she said it.
I made a gesture like I was brushing away her words, rolling my eyes as I did.
“What’s his name?” she asked, and I looked down to where her hand rested on the dog’s head.
“That’s up to you. I’ve just been calling him Boel. It’s slang for ‘dog’ in Afrikaans. Your grandmother recalls a surprising amount of it, considering she hasn’t spoken it in fifty years or more.”
“I’m not renaming your dog, Adam.”
“He’s not my dog, VanBuren.” I let that sink in for a moment, and I softened my voice. “The thought of you out here all by yourself scares the hell out of me.”
I swallowed hard.There, I said it.I watched her expression harden when I did.
“I’m not saying you’re not completely capable of taking care of yourself. You’re an amazing woman, Madelyn.”
I didn’t mean to, but my hand wasn’t listening to my brain. It shot out to cup her cheek and I cursed myself for crossing a line.
“I’ll feel better knowing you have company.”
